I remember as a little girl (it started in fifth grade), I just wanted to fit in. I wanted to have the right clothes, ride the cool bike, say the right things, of course I never did. I was different. I didn’t love dolphins, didn’t like dresses and when it came time to play outside, I didn’t really want to play on the swings, I wanted to pretend to be a Russian orphan on the lam (preferably on roller skates.)
I played alone. A lot.
As I got older I wasn’t ready to do things when other people were. I didn’t have boyfriends in 3rd, 4th, 7th, or 9th grade. I kept my t-shirts untucked and my shoulders a bit hunched, uncomfortable with the parts of me that were becoming more feminine (or not.)
My first kiss came unexpectedly at 16 and losing my virginity well, it wasn’t with him and it wasn’t for a long time. I tried to fit into molds or at least really embrace mine, but I only ever really knew what I didn’t like.
“But what do you love?”
I never could answer that, not with music, study or activity. I graduated, traveled, got a degree, worked, dated some truly unloveable heels and then stalled. Wasn’t loving the job, wasn’t loving the life. Then I met someone who saw me completely differently. And everything changed, I began to consider things differently.
I quit smoking.
I started writing again.
I had three kids in four years.
I stopped apologizing for not loving the things people expected.
Finding my way and discovering my love has at once broadened and sharpened my focus. My desire in fifth grade to fit in had more to do with not upsetting the calm than it did making myself happy. I learned at the fingertips of a toddler and the hands of a lover that my crooked tooth, my freckled arms, my hazel eyes and my goofy ways are exactly why I do fit. My world, my passion, that’s what I love.
What is your world?
Tagged: Confidence
Wait, you’re *not* a Russian orphan? I totally bought that.
And you don’t love dolphins? WTF. You said the set of blown glass dolphin figurines I bought you was beautiful.
Part of me wants to tap out a witty, nonsensical response to your post but the other part is so excited! to see your awesome photos and recognize same-era visuals as photos in my collection, and so I shall simply say, wow, you were hot. (Also, still are.)
This whole en-route-to-ourselves business is pretty fascinating, isn’t it?
Sean’s comment cracked me up.
I get this. I often look at my kids and hope that they can find the fine balance between abandoning who they are to fit in and feeling completely left out. I wasn’t particularly good at it in high school but I’m great now. That’s the other lesson I want to teach my kids: high school is a blip; there is so much better stuff that comes after.
Like I already said… I love this post. Everything rings so true for me, replace “Russian orphan” with “horse” (yes I galloped and trotted around on my hands and knees.)
I feel the same way you do about my life then and and my life now. I wish I could go back and tell child, teen and young adult me that it will all work out and be better than I could have ever hoped.
how I adore you, how I adore him for adoring you.
I agree that it is often so much easier to know what you don’t like rather than what you do. I Love your love story….isn’t it a wonderful gift to be with someone who truly sees and gets you?
xo
You were so adorable! I think feeling like we don’t fit in, are somehow different, is part of growing up. I didn’t have a boyfriend till I was 16 either. My daughter is 19 and hasn’t had one. Not that she’s happy about it…
And look at you now!!
I’m sitting here, alone in the dining room, reading this. Lilija is napping, Tom is working at the office, and my parents just left for their flight, they were visiting for a week. I’m heartbroken and quite sad today, wishing I had them here. Wishing I had one more “momanddad”hug. And then I read this. Your childhood sounds eerily similar to mine. Same bugbears about *me* and who *I* was. Same social life (or not having any, and choosing to play alone). I needed to smile, and because you shared your world, I felt that it was okay to disappear a bit into mine. Thanks for the wink.
it would be a miracle if you “knew” yourself in the 4th, 5th, 8th or 9th grades. my years of awkwardness came a bit later, starting at 16 and 17. or perhaps that was when i became more aware of myself.